‘Wet Grass’
A poem.
In Normand Park the grass is very wet.
It rained all night; for half the morning, too.
Predictably the cats were both upset.
I told them, ‘Girls, there’s nothing I can do.’
But as for you, you looked ridiculous:
So sopping wet, dressed up in soggy things –
You, who is always so meticulous
And so prepared for that which each day brings.
All this amused me such a huge amount
That I could not stop smiling all today.
In fact, I had to rack my brains to count
The times I’ve seen you in such disarray.
I know this, thinking of you all soaked through:
That I am really very fond of you.